Learning to Cope
by MBP
Summary: Pony is struggling to regain his balance after the events of the book. It's not easy for anyone, but he's struggling the most and also trying to hide it.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I still don't own The Outsiders. Fairly sure I never will either.**

**A/N: It's nice to be back here even if it is under the guise of a guilt trip. Foster Child – this one's entirely for you.**

He just couldn't concentrate. He was trying. He'd promised Darry he would, after all. But every time he sat down to do his homework, his mind would drift, and he'd find himself hours later with the same blank page in front of him that he'd started with.

It wasn't any better at school. As a matter of fact, it was worse. At least at home, nobody much noticed if he'd doze off or stare into space. Soda and Darry were used to him being in a dream world (even though he thought he caught Soda looking worried now and then). His teachers, on the other hand … well, they expected him to pay attention. He couldn't exactly blame them, but it still didn't mean he could help it. He couldn't help it.

The worst part of the whole thing was that he'd written this theme. It was the first real work he'd done in ages, and Mr. Syme liked it. He'd told him he could maybe even get it published someday. And now here he was, sitting at home, his English homework in front of him, and he couldn't bring himself to open the damn book.

He let out an explosive sigh and shoved away from the desk. There had to be something else going on. There had to be something better to do than sitting here with his thoughts. Because that was really the worst part. It wasn't that he couldn't focus on anything. There were certain things he had no trouble focusing on. But he didn't want to relive those nights anymore -- not if he could help it, anyway.

He wandered into the living room to find Two Bit parked in front of the television, watching Mickey Mouse and shoveling the last of the chocolate cake into his mouth. Pony scowled at him.

"You finished it? I was saving that for later."

Two Bit cocked an eyebrow at him and shrugged apologetically. "Well, next time if you put a little sign on it, I promise I'll at least read it before I start eating."

Pony's lips twitched as he tried not to smile. He really _had_ wanted that cake. But as Two Bit continued to look at him with chocolate on his chin and that maddening innocence in his eyes, he couldn't control himself anymore. He started laughing.

"Fine. But don't expect to see chocolate cake for the rest of this week."

The look of horror on his friend's face was worth it. Deciding to ignore him, Pony settled himself into the corner of the couch and glanced at the television.

"More Mickey? Don't you ever watch anything else?"

Two Bit, too, had turned back to the television. "Why would I? Nothing else even comes close to the Mouse," he answered matter-of-factly.

He was very difficult to argue with, Pony realized, and he contented himself with rolling his eyes – a gesture Two Bit obviously missed since he was once again engrossed in the cartoon. When Soda and Steve walked into the house 20 minutes later, not much had changed.

"Are you _ever _going to get a job, Two Bit?" Steve asked as he walked over to Darry's chair. He never tried to sit in it when the oldest Curtis was home, but he was willing to test his luck when Darry was at work. Pony knew, though, that the instant he heard the door click, he'd fly out of that chair with some kind of excuse about going to the bathroom or getting himself a drink. He found it funny every time it happened, but he knew better than to laugh. He and Steve were getting along better these days. He didn't want to screw that up again.

Two Bit snorted. They all knew the answer. He would never get a job until his mother kicked him out, and considering that Mrs. Mathews would never do that, Two Bit was safe. It wasn't bad being Two Bit, Pony realized once again, looking at his happy-go-lucky friend. True, things affected him but never for long. Pony wished he knew what that was like.

"Hey Pony," Soda said, and he turned to look at his brother for the first time since he and Steve had walked in. Soda was looking at him with some concern, and Pony realized, not for the first time, that as much as he thought he was hiding these concentrating problems from his brothers, Soda probably knew about them anyway. He just knew him too well not to. Pony forced a smile.

"Hey Soda," he said. He let their connection linger for just a moment longer before he looked away, but that didn't stop Soda from asking hesitantly, "how's the homework coming along tonight?"

So he did know. Pony shrugged guiltily. "It's fine," he said, refusing to look at him again. Lying to Soda was one thing. Lying to his face was something else entirely. He couldn't do it, and they both knew it, so he didn't even try. Soda didn't say anything more, but he let out an almost inaudible sigh. There was nothing he could do about this now. He wasn't about to get into it with Steve and Two Bit there anyway.

The rest of the night passed too quickly for Pony's liking. Darry got home an hour later, Steve bolting out of his chair just in time. He and Two Bit stayed to dinner, leaving shortly after the chicken and slightly orange potatoes, and Pony had just finished his night of cleaning up when Darry called to him from the living room.

"Pone, come in here for a minute?"

Wiping his hands dry on his jeans, he walked out of the kitchen – and stopped short. Soda was sitting there too. It was an ambush.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Outsiders still not mine.

A/N: Thanks so much for all of the reviews and encouragement so far! It's definitely inspiring. I'm starting to get a sense of where this story is going. I hope you'll come along for the ride (and review on the way!)

Pony didn't sit down. No one said he should, so he lingered in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen.

"Yeah?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "What?"

He didn't miss the quick glance that passed between his brothers, and for some reason, it annoyed him. When neither of them answered, he repeated, his voice starch with irritation, "_What_?"

Darry sighed and gestured toward the couch. "Why don't you come in and sit with us, Pony?"

He shook his head, refusing to meet his brother's eyes. "No. What do you want?"

Soda's voice came next. "Pony, just for a few minutes? Come on…"

He couldn't lie to Soda; he couldn't say no to him either. But that didn't mean he had to look at him. He flung himself on the couch, folded his arms, and glared at his knees. This was their idea. He was not going to speak first.

"Pony," Soda started, then paused. He hated fighting, and he didn't know how to have this conversation without an argument breaking out. But he looked at Pony and then he looked at Darry, and he knew he had to try anyway. He took a deep breath and said, "Darry and I have been kind of worried about you lately. It seems like you haven't been able to do your homework or concentrate too good …"

He trailed off. Pony still hadn't looked up, and he looked at Darry helplessly.

"Pony, you're not in trouble," Darry said, leaning forward in his chair, trying to keep his voice gentle. "We just want to help. It's just that … well, we're not the only ones worried about you. Mr. Syme called me today. He told me about how great your theme was, but he also said he's noticed that you haven't done much of your work since then. Is there – well, is there a reason why?"

Pony shrugged, his lips tightly closed. Of course there was a reason, but if they were too dumb to figure it out, he wasn't going to be the one to tell them.

"Is it – are you still thinking about them a lot?" Darry asked. His voice was softer than Pony could ever remember hearing it before, and he looked up almost against his will. His oldest brother was watching him intently, and without even realizing what he was doing, he nodded.

Darry just looked at him, and Soda shifted marginally closer to him on the couch, careful not to touch him but still wanting to be there if Pony would let him. And suddenly Pony realized he was too tired not to. He wasn't just not concentrating. He wasn't sleeping either, and he let out an explosive breath.

He didn't look at either of his brothers, but he mumbled, "I just can't – every time I start to do work, my mind drifts off, and then I'm seeing it all again. And I know he – he told me to stay gold, but I don't know how to do it anymore." His voice broke, and he swallowed hard. No. This whole thing was bad enough. He wouldn't start blubbering now too.

Darry and Soda looked at each other. Neither of them could miss the pain in Pony's voice, and it was a sound they hadn't heard in months now. From the surprise in Darry's eyes, Soda knew they were thinking the same thing. How could they live in the same house with Pony and miss this? Guilt shook him, and he edged even closer to Pony.

"We'll help you, ok?" he whispered. He tentatively reached an arm across the back of the couch. When Pony didn't move away, he left it there.

None of them spoke, and when Pony still hadn't answered, Darry said, "Pone, we want to help. This is – well, it's nothing to be ashamed of, ok?"

Pony finally nodded. "Ok," he whispered. He still wouldn't look up, but he finally managed to say, "I don't know how you'll help, though. What can _you_ do? You can't change anything that's happened."

Soda looked pained, and he glanced at Darry. Pony was right. As much as he wanted to, he _couldn't_ change what had happened. But Darry was already prepared for this.

"Well," he said slowly, knowing that Pony wasn't apt to like this answer but it was all he had. "Well, Mr. Syme suggested that you talk to some woman in the school. He said her name is … Ms. Boyd, I think?"

Now Pony did look up with a start. "Ms. Boyd? No, Darry, I don't need to talk to her. People only go to talk to her when the teachers are afraid they're going to kill themselves or something. I'm fine. I don't need to talk to her."

Darry gazed at him steadily, and Pony suddenly realized that this wasn't a suggestion. His stomach turned, but Darry said, "Relax, Pone. It'll be ok. If you don't like her, you don't have to go more than once. But Mr. Syme said you kind of have to go at least once. It's school policy or something, I guess, when a teacher is worried. But if you want, I can take the morning off when you go, and I'll go with you."

At this gesture of utter generosity – and, he had to admit it – love, Pony relaxed. As much as he wished he could be strong enough to say no, he wasn't.

"Ok," he said simply. Darry looked at him for a moment, and then he smiled.

"It'll be fine. And I bet Soda could come too, if you want."

Pony finally turned to look at Soda, and at the pleading in his eyes, Soda nodded immediately.

"I'll get Steve or someone to cover for me," he said, and when Pony leaned against his arm for the first time, he knew this was what he would do. If they wanted to help Pony, they would have to do this together, and if it meant he and Darry would be going back to high school for a morning, then so be it. They would do whatever was necessary to get Pony through this. But they _would_ get him through it. It looked like it would just take longer than they'd thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Outsiders? Not mine.**

**A/N: I think this chapter is kind of a transition of sorts, albeit a relatively long one. It definitely sets up the rest of the story, at least. If you're reading, please review!**

Pony was nervous. He snapped at both Darry and Soda at breakfast, and he hardly ate any chocolate cake. Both of his brothers noticed, obviously, but neither of them said anything. They knew from years of experience that this was the way Pony worked. He only got irritable when he was worried about something. Neither of them could blame him. None of them were particularly comfortable talking to _anyone_ about their feelings, let alone someone outside the family.

They were all ready much faster than they'd wanted to be, but what with Pony's lack of appetite, his rushed movements, and Soda and Darry's own jumpiness, they were at the high school fifteen minutes before they needed to be there. Pony hustled them through the halls to Ms. Boyd's office and was relieved to see that her secretary was already sitting at her desk.

He opened the door slowly, and Ms. Simmons looked up with a welcoming smile. She was one of the few secretaries in the school to smile at him, but Pony figured she had to, working in this office. It was probably in her job description because everyone who came in here just had to be so damn _fragile_. He let out a deep breath. No use in getting angry now. There'd be plenty of time for that later.

"I'm Ponyboy Curtis," he mumbled. "I have an appointment with Ms. Boyd at 8:30."

Ms. Simmons glanced at the clock, saw that it was 8:15, and smiled even more understandingly.

"Why don't you… three?" Pony nodded. "Ok," she continued, not missing a beat. "Why don't you three go sit over in those chairs, and she should be here soon."

Darry and Soda smiled at her and followed Pony to the seats. As the minutes ticked by, none of the brothers spoke. Pony stared at his feet, and Soda and Darry glanced at him and each other frequently. Neither of them had any idea of how this would go, and it was clear that all three of them just wished they could get it over with.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to all three brothers, a woman with shoulder-length brown hair and blue eyes walked into the office. She was carrying a briefcase, and she grinned at Ms. Simmons when she entered the room.

"Hi Olivia!" she exclaimed, not noticing for the moment the family that awaited her. As Darry watched her curiously, he made some quick observations. She had to be in her early 30's, and she seemed very … happy. How could someone so happy help people who were miserable? Darry sighed. He hoped this wouldn't be as spectacularly awful as it very well could be.

Olivia?, apparently, smiled. "You have your first appointment here already," she said, indicating the Curtises, and Ms. Boyd turned.

"Welcome," she said warmly, smiling first at Pony and then at Darry and Soda. "You're here with Ponyboy?"

The boys nodded, and she motioned for them to accompany her into her office. Darry was pleased to see that she didn't have a couch. He could tell Pony appreciated that too from the small sigh of relief. The three of them sat together on one side of the desk and waited patiently for her to hang up her coat and stow her bag. Once she was seated herself, she seemed to relax.

"That's better," she said, smiling at them once again. "Now, can I know everybody's name before we start?"

Darry nodded. "I'm Darryl Curtis, and I'm Pony's guardian."

She reached across the desk and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Curtis."

Darry shook his head, bemused. "You can just call me Darry. Everyone else does."

"Ok. Darry." She turned her questioning gaze on Soda, and he flashed his customary charming grin.

"Sodapop Curtis, ma'am. Nice to meet you."

Her smile seemed slightly more amused, but she didn't laugh. She turned to Pony.

"And you're Ponyboy." He nodded, but his face was expressionless. After a momentary pause, Ms. Boyd pulled a manila folder towards her.

"Well, let's see what we have here. Ponyboy Curtis, referred by Mr. Syme … Mr. Syme," she said thoughtfully. "He doesn't usually send people to me, unlike many of the other English teachers."

She put down the folder and for the first time looked directly at Pony without smiling. "Why do you think he sent you?"

Darry suddenly relaxed. She did know what she was doing. This might actually be ok.

Pony, of course, tensed. "I don't know," he mumbled. But as annoyed as he might get with his brothers, he didn't know how to be rude to strangers and to strange women, especially. "Probably because I haven't been doing my homework."

Ms. Boyd looked at him skeptically. "Pony, a lot of kids in this school don't do their homework. I certainly don't know nearly all of them. Why would you not doing your homework cause Mr. Syme, of all people, to think you should talk to me?"

There was a silence that stretched uncomfortably, but Ms. Boyd seemed content to wait. Finally, Soda said, "You see, Ms. Boyd, Pony here's a real good writer. He wrote this theme for English that Mr. Syme really liked. That's probably why he noticed when Pony stopped doing his work."

"I see," she said. Suddenly, she smiled. "That's great that you're such a good writer, Pony. I know Mr. Syme isn't easily impressed."

Pony flushed, but he relaxed slightly. "Thanks," he said quietly, but all of them could see that he was pleased. Then she asked The Question.

"Well, if you're such a good English student, then why _aren't_ you doing the work now?"

Pony sighed. "I just can't concentrate," he said quietly.

"Can't concentrate," Ms. Boyd repeated. She waited. She knew there was more, and Pony, looking up to see her face, could tell. He quickly looked back down but not before he said, "It's … it's been a rough couple of months."

Darry was watching her and saw the flash of understanding her eyes. She looked at him for a moment before she looked back at Pony, saying softly, "I'm sorry, Pony. I've heard some about what happened with your friends. I know that things like that can be a very – BIG distraction."

Pony didn't look up, but he nodded slightly. Soda put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. He only wished he could do more.

Ms. Boyd sighed. This was progress, and she knew better than to try for more.

"Pony, ultimately, I think you're going to be ok."

He looked up quickly. She smiled and nodded. "I do. But I think it might take a little while for us to get you back to that place where you can really focus on your work. Would you be ok with coming back here and talking some more?"

Pony sat there, thinking, and Darry and Soda held their breaths without even realizing it until he nodded. They both sighed, relief clearly etched on their faces. Ms. Boyd nodded abruptly.

"Excellent. How does next Tuesday sound? If you need to change it for any reason, you can just come back and let Ms. Simmons know, and she can help you reschedule."

"That sounds good," Pony muttered, and she jotted a note on the pad in front of her.

"You did well today, Pony," she said seriously, and when he looked at her, she smiled and so did he.

"Thanks," he mumbled. He glanced at his brothers, and Darry nodded to him.

"Ready to go?" he asked, and his younger brothers both stood in response. As one, the Curtis boys turned to Ms. Boyd and thanked her. Once they left her office, Pony mumbled, "thanks for coming; see you at home" and walked off to his next class. Soda and Darry quickly found their way back to the car.

They settled in, but before Darry even turned the key in the ignition, both of them leaned their heads back and against the seats and sighed.

"It went well, right?" Soda asked, and Darry was silent for a moment. Then he smiled.

"I think it did," he said, sounding slightly surprised. "I think she gets Pony. She won't push him, but I think he will talk to her eventually. Let's hope so at least."

Soda nodded. "I think he will too. We won't need to come back again, though, right?"

Darry tried not to smile. This clearly wasn't Soda's thing, but he couldn't blame him. It wasn't his either. Luckily, Pony was the only one of the three of them who he could actually envision talking to someone like this.

"I'm sure he'll be ok to go on his own," he said, and Soda relaxed, reassured. That was as good as a guarantee. Without another word, Darry started the car. They just had to hope Ms. Boyd really did know what she was doing – and that Pony would trust her to do it.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Outsiders? Still not mine.

A/N: Well, it's about time for something to happen in this story already, I think.

It wasn't an easy week. Pony knew better than to think that one meeting would be like a magical pill, but he'd hoped irrationally that it would. But he still couldn't concentrate in most of his classes, and now – now, of all times – Mr. Syme decided to give them this book to read. _Catcher in the Rye_, it was called. And he'd actually decided to give it a try. After all, if Mr. Syme cared about him like he seemed to, then he might as well at least try to concentrate in his class.

But this book … no one warned him about this book. This character, this Holden Caulfield, reminded him too much of himself. He reminded him of other people too, people he didn't necessarily want to think about right now. Holden – Holden was struggling with losing someone, someone who reminded him way too much of Johnny. Whenever he thought of the description of Allie, his eyes would start stinging. And then it happened at the _worst_ time.

It was Tuesday morning, and he was sitting in English when Mr. Syme brought up that essay that Holden had written about Allie's baseball mitt.

"What is it about Allie that makes him different from everyone else in Holden's life?"

"He's younger than Holden," someone called out.

Mr. Syme grimaced. "Ok," he conceded grudgingly. "Now let's try to go a little deeper. How does Holden feel about Allie?"

No one answered. Pony sighed and shifted in his seat. Wasn't it obvious? Why wasn't anyone saying it?

The silence stretched uncomfortably until Pony finally burst out, "He loves him. He's the only one Dal – Holden actually loves."

The silence crackled. Pony felt as if he were frozen to his seat. Everyone had heard him. He just knew that everyone had heard him start to say Dally instead of Holden. His throat was dry, and his ears were hot, and he knew he couldn't stay there a moment longer.

He bolted from his seat, hoping that Mr. Syme wouldn't try to stop him. Mercifully, he let him go. But once he got out the door, he wasn't sure _where_ to go. Sure, he could go to the schoolyard, smoke a cigarette, calm his nerves. It would probably work, too, but his eyes were burning now, and he couldn't handle the thought of facing anyone else.

Without even realizing where his feet were leading him, he found himself facing Ms. Simmons, who looked completely unsurprised to see him.

"Ponyboy," she said, smiling. "You're 20 minutes early, but Ms. Boyd didn't have an appointment this period. Just give me a minute to let her know you're here, and then I'm sure you can go on in."

Pony nodded, standing stiffly in place, eyes down. He didn't trust himself to speak or to look at this woman. She was too motherly. That was the last thing he needed right now.

Luckily, it took less than five minutes for Ms. Boyd to come to her door and usher him into her office. If she were surprised to see him earlier than she'd expected, she didn't let on.

"Come on in, Pony," she said calmly. "Take a seat."

He sat in the same seat as last time and felt his brothers' absence keenly. His hands were clenched in his lap, but now that he was here, he was able to breathe again.

Ms. Boyd studied him for a moment. "Something happened," she said thoughtfully. Pony looked up in surprise, and as soon as she saw his eyes, she knew she was right. Her voice slightly more gentle, she repeated, "Something happened. Right?"

After a brief pause, he nodded. But now that she forced him to remember, he found it difficult to swallow. He hoped she wouldn't ask him to explain, but he knew there wasn't much hope of that. He was right.

"Why don't you tell me what happened, Pony?"

He wanted to, but he just couldn't think of a way to say it so that it wouldn't sound stupid. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. If he could be in a rumble and win, he could do this.

"I was – I was in English," he said haltingly. He shook his head. He had to tell her, but he didn't want to. He wished it would all just go away. "We were talking about _Catcher in the Rye_. Did you ever read it?"

Ms. Boyd nodded and smiled. "I did. I had the biggest crush on Holden."

Pony tried to smile and not roll his eyes. It was hard.

"So we were talking about Holden's relationship with his younger brother Allie, and Mr. Syme asked how it was different from Holden's relationship with everyone else. Anyone with a brain knows that it's because Holden loved Allie, but no one in my class seemed to have caught onto that idea. So I said it, but…"

He trailed off. Ms. Boyd knew there was more, but she was equally sure that the last thing Pony wanted to do was tell her what it was. She gave him two minutes, but when he still said nothing, she asked, "What did you say?"

Pony stared at the edge of the desk. He couldn't look at her. If he looked at her, she'd see his eyes, and that was the last thing he was going to let her see right now.

"I gave him the answer, but – but I called Holden Dally."

He whispered the last part, but she heard it anyway, and she felt a pang. As much as she had to distance herself from the students, she couldn't stop herself from caring about them. Pony's pain was so palpable right now that she didn't understand how he didn't break into pieces. As it was, she did know why he was refusing to look up at her.

She gave him a moment before she asked quietly, "Why do you think you did that, Pony?"

He shrugged. He was still keeping his face down, though, so she knew that he did know the reason. He was just afraid to talk any more.

"Pony," she said more firmly, "tell me why Holden reminds you of Dally."

He stiffened. He never liked direct orders, but he didn't see how he could refuse this one even though he wished he could.

"Holden – he loved Allie. He loved him more than anybody," he faltered. "With Dally – we never thought he loved anybody. But then Johnny…" Pony swallowed painfully. He still couldn't say it. He couldn't imagine ever being able to say it. He shook his head. "Johnny was the only person Dally loved," he managed to whisper before ducking his head again.

For the first time since she could remember, Ms. Boyd was at a loss for words. She looked at the top of Pony's head, and her eyes were pained. She gave him a moment before she said quietly, "There will be other days like this, Pony."

It wasn't what he expected to hear, and he looked up if only out of surprise. When he saw her eyes widen, he looked back down quickly. He hadn't meant to let her see.

Recovering quickly, she continued. "You will read things and see things that remind you of your friends. It's going to be very hard in the beginning, Pony, but I'm sure you already know that. Logically, I'm sure, you also know that it gets easier. But each time is different. You just … you never know when it's going to hit you."

She made sense. And her words helped him calm down, slow his breathing, and surreptitiously dry his eyes. After a few more minutes, he finally looked up.

"I know," he said quietly, relieved that his voice was back to normal. "It's just – what do I do when it happens next time?"

Now she smiled. "Same thing you did this time. You come here. I'm proud that you knew you should, by the way. You've made the real first step now."

He nodded. He knew. He just hoped the next time would be easier – and that it wouldn't be for a while. He knew this was wishful thinking.


End file.
